


Keeping up appearances

by m_findlow



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:21:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22223236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/m_findlow/pseuds/m_findlow
Summary: Keeping up appearances is exhausting work.
Kudos: 7
Collections: fic_promptly Fills 2016





	Keeping up appearances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badly_knitted](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badly_knitted/gifts).



Bridget Spears sighed when she flipped over her calendar page and saw the neat red writing. Red was reserved for special appointments, specifically those for Mr Frobisher that were of a general kind not to his liking, and specifically those for one particular individual who had the good sense to make his personal visitations as infrequently as possible.

To say Captain Jack Harkness was once of her least favourite people was nothing short of an understatement. She'd read the classified files on him - one of the privileges of working for the Home Office Secretary - and knew all about the Captain's long history. She also knew enough to have seen the expression often written on Mr Frobisher's face after one of their regular phone calls, that Torchwood was his least favourite organisation to deal with.

She couldn't blame him either. From what she'd experienced, they were for the most part young, cocky, and had a complete disregard for rules and procedure. The only saving grace was that for most of their reporting, they now had an intermediary who worked there, a polite young man who was, for the most part, easy to deal with, even if he did provide many an excuse as to why his boss wasn't available to take Mr Frobisher's calls. Perhaps if their esteemed leader were more like his personal secretary, they might not butt heads so often.

Then again, perhaps it was a relief not to have to be personally involved in whatever it was that they did. If the reports were anything to go by, the Home Office ought stay well clear of them. The fools from the London branch had made a right mess of things, and it was only a stroke of luck that she hadn't been here when it had happened. Both her predecessor and that of her boss had been very quickly ushered out the back door once word had reached the Prime Minister that they had rather dropped the ball and left Torchwood to administer themselves. The PM was very careful about not being tethered to such things. He'd learned from the mistakes of his own predecessor, Harriet Jones, that those who aligned themselves too closely often got caught in the crossfire. Even now, it was almost impossible to keep a leash on Torchwood, and there were only a mere half dozen of them. It was a job that John Frobisher hardly relished. They never had these sorts of problems dealing with UNIT.

Bridget let out a quiet sigh, knowing that today was simply going to be one of those days of disruption. The Captain was coming here and there was nothing she could do about it.

There was no mistaking his arrival. As usual, he appeared through the doors to the upper level offices, coattails flashing behind him. How they ever let him through security dressed up like a Halloween clown was anybody's guess. He didn't waste any time making a beeline to her desk.

'Bridget! Looking lovely as ever!' He gave her one of those smiles that might have won over lesser mortals, but she was wise to his ways. She also knew it was all for show, and that if he had a say in the matter, he wouldn't be smiling. It was the equivalent of being sent to the principal's office, knowing you'd rather just sit the detention and get it over with.

'Captain Harkness,' she replied coolly, greeting him with something just above disdain. 'Mr Frobisher is currently still in his earlier meeting. I'm afraid you'll have to wait until he's done.' It was of course, complete nonsense, but it was nice to make him feel slightly less important than he thought himself. She also knew John Frobisher would be dreading his appearance, and any delay would be welcome before facing the inevitable.

'That's okay, I'll just wait here,' Jack replied cordially, perching himself on the edge of her desk and forcing her to quickly relieve the space of the pile of documents that had been sitting there moments ago. It was a small victory, but important. They both knew she was stalling, but Jack was well versed in the art of being obnoxious.

Bridge Spears was an exceedingly officious thorn in his impressively good looking arse. Were it not for the fact that he had blessedly patient Ianto doing ninety percent of their liaising with the Home Office, he'd have been sorely tempted to set loose a few weevils on them, or at the very least a not inconsiderably small swarm of spidermice. Then again, it didn't seem fair to subject even his most disliked aliens against the nightmare that was Bridget Spears. Bad enough that he had to deal with her. Insufferable woman. At least John Frobisher had the decency to be impolite to his face. Theirs was a tenuously fostered relationship of mutual distrust. The only thing they could readily agree on was a strong dislike for politicians who made both of their lives difficult.

'Can I fetch you something to drink? Tea perhaps?' Bridget asked. And a large brandy for me, God help us.

'That's very kind of you, Bridget, but no. Besides I'm more of a coffee drinker.' And I know you'll probably slip arsenic in the tea. Must double check you're not Slitheen when I get back home.

'I should have thought as much from an American.' Arrogant sod.

'Well, when you have the world's best barrista on the payroll, all other beverages just don't compare.'

Bridget managed a thin smile. 'And things are well at Torchwood?'

'Never better. We had a lovely chap come down last week and conduct an OH&S audit.'

'You don't say?' she replied, attempting to look fascinated. 'That must have been a surprise.' Did you like my little present? No doubt had you running around for a while. 'I imagine such things must be difficult in your line of work?'

Not as much as you'd hoped, dragon lady. 'No problem at all,' he assured her. 'We came out squeaky clean.' With the help of a little retcon, so you can shove that where the sun don't shine. You'll have to do better than that next time.

'Glad to hear.' Drat.

Bridget nervously picked up her phone which hadn't been ringing. 'Ah, it seems Mr Frobisher is ready to see you.'

'A shame,' Jack replied, picking himself up off her desk. 'I really enjoy these little chats of ours.' I'd rather shove needles in my eyes and listen to Owen recite Jane Eyre to an audience of naked weevils.

'You could always visit London more often,' she offered. 'I sure Mr Frobisher would be delighted to have you here more often to update him.'

Jack smiled. 'I'm sure he would, but there's just so much saving the world to be done, and London is such a busy place. Too busy for the likes of a simple country boy like me.'

'A shame, as you say. I trust you can find your way to his office from here?' Her face was starting to ache from the insincere expression she was holding on it.

'If I get lost I'll be sure to come right back here for directions.' I have every corridor and exit memorised so that I can get out of here as quickly as possible. Trust me, I won't be coming back past here even if my life depends on it.

She forced a smile and decided now would be an excellent time to disappear for a tea break, lest he should decide to return. Pity the man who would have to endure him for the next hour. Then again, Mr Frobisher was paid rather more handsomely than her. The things one did for Queen and country.


End file.
